


Blessed Are Those Who Mourn, For They Shall Be Comforted

by Mockingjay468



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Arda Unmarred, Beta'd, Debating, Grieving, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-19
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-15 14:08:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29560269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mockingjay468/pseuds/Mockingjay468
Summary: “Ho! Traveller!”Finrod spins around, reaching for his sword before remembering that he no longer carries it with him. The unmarred world is safe, after all.He forces himself to relax.“Good day,” He says in return, examining the stranger before him, dressed in fine hunting clothes and holding himself cheerily. He is clearly an elf but there is something…some feeling that makes Finrod wary.Finrod is grieving the loss of his husband in the new world when he meets a stranger in the woods.They have an enlightening conversation.
Relationships: Bëor the Old/Finrod Felagund | Findaráto
Comments: 2
Kudos: 16





	Blessed Are Those Who Mourn, For They Shall Be Comforted

**Author's Note:**

> Hello all!
> 
> This is the story I wrote for a prompt from [actuallymiriel](https://actuallymiriel.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr. It was a fun challenge as it isn't something I would have normally written but I enjoyed it a lot! If anyone is interested in giving me a prompt, I think I shall start doing some. I'm on Tumblr as [Mockingjay-468](https://mockingjay-468.tumblr.com/) \- I'm not massively active but I'm there!
> 
> A thank you to [oliviacat3](https://archiveofourown.org/users/oliviacat3/pseuds/oliviacat3) as always for being my beta.
> 
> And I hope you enjoy!

Finrod has taken to wandering the forest recently.

It is close to his lonely cottage and far preferable to staying within its empty, silent rooms.

Galadriel had asked him, last time she visited, why he insisted on staying out here in the wilderness when there was plenty of city where he would be decidedly less lonesome.

It’s not that he hates the city: quite the contrary, he loves to watch the hustle and bustle of people toing and froing and to hear the unique music of every market place and street.

He does not hate the city but the forest is dearer to his heart and he will sacrifice company to walk beneath its boughs.

The forest is where he met the love of his life and his death. Every step he takes that crunches beneath him, every bird that sings in the canopy above, every gentle swaying branch reminds him of Bëor.

He takes a faded joy from the memory of his love’s unadulterated ecstasy at the world around him.

 _That_ is why he took his leave to the middle of nowhere.

“Ho! Traveller!”

Finrod spins around, reaching for his sword before remembering that he no longer carries it with him. The unmarred world is safe, after all.

He forces himself to relax.

“Good day,” He says in return, examining the stranger before him, dressed in fine hunting clothes and holding himself cheerily. He is clearly an elf but there is something…some _feeling_ that makes Finrod wary.

The stranger gives him a hearty smile. “I thought I would be the only one this far from civilisation.”

“Are you lost?” Finrod inquires – it feels impossible as the elf seems so at ease but it was polite to ask.

“Ah, no. But I do not think I shall make it to my destination tonight. Alas, I must sleep in the woods.”

“I live close by. You may stay the night instead of sleeping out here, if that would be to your liking.”

“I most generous offer that I will most certainly be taking you up on.” The stranger smiles. “May I know the name of my host?”

“Nóm.” The name falls from his lips as easily as the offer of a nights rest. His tongue seems to have a life of its own in this elf’s presence. “And your name, stranger?”

“You may call me Únan-Pen.” He gives Finrod another smile and any unease Finrod may have felt at the name melts away.

* * *

“A very nice supper that was indeed.” Finrod’s guest puts his knife and fork together on his plate. “Now, I’m curious – what brought you to live here, so far from your kin?”

Finrod grimaces. “I have rather a lot of kin. It is quite nice to have a place to be away from the chaos.”

“Ah.” The elf buries around in his pocket, revealing a pipe. “You don’t mind if I smoke, do you?”

“Of course not, be my guest.”

They sit in silence for a long moment, in which Finrod reminisces of times he had done this with his many mortal friends and of course, his dearest love.

“You seem awfully melancholy,” The other elf comments suddenly, breaking through Finrod’s thoughts. “I thought this new world was a happy place.”

“Happiness is subjective. ”

“Is it now?”

“It is. Happiness can only be gained through your experiences. Thus, your experiences shape the way that you are happy. It’s not something you can just create.” Finrod hates the bitter note that creeps into his voice.

His guest puffs thoughtfully on his pipe. “You appear to have missed something that your peers have not. They do not seem so pained in the new world.”

“They forget the old.”

_“Do not think that I forget her! I do not pretend that she never existed. I want to be happy, Finrod!”_

Finrod blinks away the sour memory. “Would you like some tea?” He asks his guest, trying for a smile.

“Certainly, if it is being offered.”

Finrod lifts the kettle onto the stove.

“Are you alone here?”

“Yes.” Finrod tugs on one of his braids as he returns to his seat. “I have no-one to share it with.”

“Is that why you are so mournful? You are alone?”

“It is not just because I am alone. It is because I once had someone I thought I would be able to share my life with and now I do not.”

“They were mortal?”

Finrod lets out a short laugh, before agreeing resentfully. “He was mortal. Eru will not let me be joined with him again.”

The kettle whistles, high and piercing, and Finrod stands again to fill the waiting mugs. Bëor never liked the unsweetened taste of this tea, Finrod thinks as he brings the mugs back to the table.

“You don’t seem to have a very high opinion of the One,” Finrod’s guest comments as he accepts the tea.

“Why should I? He has done nothing for me.”

“Nothing?” The elf looks incredulous. “He created you. Surely you cannot find fault with _that_.”

“It was done with little creation, it appears, or else he is not so omnibenevolent as I am so often told.” Finrod’s knuckles are white where they grip the mug.

“Do you truly believe you can understand His reasoning? His mind is far beyond that of any spirit on this earth, incarnate or not.” Finrod’s hands are beginning to scald, holding his mug so tightly. “He is timeless and transcends all comprehension. Would it not be folly, then, to argue with His actions?”

“If He did not want those He created to argue with His actions, He should not have caused His creation – His children, whom He claims to love – pain from which they cannot recover.”

“You believe he has inflicted something upon you that has caused a wound that will not heal?”

“Yes.” Finrod squares his jaw as he takes his hand from the mug. “He gave His children separate fates and put them in a place where they would form bonds of brotherhood and love but then he tore them apart through death, never to be joined again. And now I must watch my family be happy and content in this new life, free from burdens and with those they love and know I will never quite manage to achieve that same peace separated from him.”

_“Fifi, for the sake of all that is good, why must you continue to wallow in your pain?”_

His guest takes his pipe from his mouth, setting it on the table with a firm tap.

“I am interested,” He starts slowly. “In a point from earlier. Happiness, you said, was subjective. Thus to achieve happiness, would you not need pain to compare to your joyous moments too?”

“Yes. But if you cannot recover from your injuries, does that not taint those moments.”

“Only, I believe, if you let it. If you do not, if you accept the change and let it become a part of you – not to forget but to accept – you may very well find those moments of joy are happier. The greater the pain of an experience, surely, would provide a greater love for those things around you.”

“It is not a matter of letting. You cannot…you cannot just take that weight from your soul.”

“No. But you can get stronger so that the weight does not feel so heavy.” The elf picks up his pipe again, tipping it into the flickering fireplace. “Surely you are not the only one who suffers so? Not the only one who must deal with the grief of a lost lover.”

_“Fine! If you must be like that, leave! See if I care!”_

Finrod doesn’t answer, his brother’s biting words echoing in his head. Their parting conversation – well, argument seems a more fitting term – was not a sweet one.

“Well, it’s getting late.” Finrod looks up from his hands at his guest who gives him a smile that seems to hold all the peace in the world. “I should be off to bed.”

Finrod gives his guest a weak smile and directs him through a door to their left with a quiet goodnight.

His brother’s harsh words whisper into his ears, sweet memories of his lover flit across his eyes as he sits at his kitchen table, the hearth dying down to embers and the sun rising in the west.

* * *

Finrod is woken slowly from his thoughts by the sun falling on his face and his open eyes.

He yawns, exhausted from his long night. He supposed that he should make breakfast. He stumbles to his feet and over to the guest bedroom.

He knocks gently. “Hey…” He trails off as he realises, with some embarrassment, that he can’t remember his guest’s name. “…sir. Would you like some breakfast?”

There is no answer but for the whistling of wind through an open window. Finrod pushes the door open.

There is no-one occupying the bed or any part of the room: indeed, everything looks untouched, as if no-one slept there at all last night.

Finrod stands in the doorway, the gentle morning breeze blowing the curtains and into his hair.

There is a sharp knock on the front door.

He blinks, surprised. “I’m coming!” He yells, pausing for a moment, wondering at his mysterious guest.

The knock comes again.

“impatient,” He mutters, fumbling with the bolt and key.

There’s a third knock. “I’m opening it! Calm down.”

“Good it’s bloody freezing out here.”

It’s good thing that Finrod has already unlocked the door because he can feel his hand begin to shake.

“Aiko?” He asks, pulling the door open.

Sure enough, there is Aegnor: spiky hair, lopsided grin and all.

“Hey Fifi. I think we need to talk.”

“Talk?” Finrod asks.

“Yes. But properly this time. With no arguing.”

That doesn’t sound too bad.

**Author's Note:**

> Non-Canon Names:  
> Únan-Pen - Timeless One


End file.
